Yikes.
He’s out there looking like a Greek god, and I look like death warmed over.
My hair is a tangled mess, dark circles under my eyes make me look like a raccoon, and there’s a smudge of something orange on my cheek.
Sighing, I start the shower, strip out of my clothes, and step under the hot spray.
Heaven.
I close my eyes and let the water cascade over me, washing away the fear and adrenaline of the night. I run my hands through my hair, getting it wet, then reach for his 2-in-1 shampoo and conditioner. “This is going to do wonders for my hair,” I groan.
I squirt some in my hand, rub them together, and work my hair into a lather. The masculine scent surrounds me, and I find myself inhaling deeply. It smells like him. Like mint, spice, and something else I can’t put my finger on.
Once I’ve worked the tangles out, I rinse out the suds, then squirt more shampoo into my hands and quickly wash my body. No way am I using the single bar of soap on the rail. By the time I’ve scrubbed every inch of my body, I feel almost human again.
Almost.
My eyes catch on Bane’s razor. Biting my lip, I glance down at the forest on my legs.
Fuck it.
Giggling, I snatch it off the rail and get to work. If I’m going to be stuck here, I might as well be comfortable.
Clean and smooth, I step out of the shower onto the bath mat and reach for the towel hanging on the back of the door. I quickly dry off and reach for my?—
Shit. Shit. Shit!
Damn it to hell! I don’t have any clothes!
I stare at my pile of dirty clothes on the floor. The thought of putting them back on makes my skin crawl, but what choice do I have?
Embarrassed, I wrap the towel tightly around my body and open the bathroom door.
Why me?
Chapter Six
Bane
Sitting on the edge of the bed with my elbows on my knees and my head down, I can’t stop thinking about the little troublemaker currently in my bathroom. She’s nothing like I thought she’d be. Of course, I hadn’t been expecting the man who stole my fucking money to be a chick. That was a curveball I hadn’t seen coming.
But it’s more than that. She’s different. There’s something about her, something in those honey-brown eyes has me forgetting why she’s here in the first place. She’s no wilting daisy, though. She’s a fighter through and through. Most people would be pissing themselves if they were dragged to the Kings’ clubhouse against their will.
But not Frankie.
My lips twitch thinking about how feisty she is. She reminds me of Foxy. She’s tough, but not in an ‘I’ll kill you and hide the body’kind of way. She’s got that quiet steel in her spine that you don’t expect.
I never would have thought it possible, but I fuckin’ like her.
She intrigues me.
The click of the bathroom door pulls me from my thoughts, and I lift my head.
Holy. Fucking. Shit.
My eyes travel from the tips of Frankie’s red, polished toes up her long, tan legs, over the towel concealing her pussy and small breasts to her flushed pink cheeks, and long, damp blonde hair hanging in thick ropes around her shoulders. I swallow hard.
She’s beautiful.
